Derek & Stiles Fest: The Jinx
by hbrackett
Summary: Thought it would be amusing to add a supernatural element to Stiles' ADHD. PM negative comments so I can delete them but I live for nice reviews.
1. Chapter 1

Derek&Stiles Fest: The Jinx

A/N – Well, trolls led me to take my last story down, but I did want to contribute something for the fest. This is an AU non-canon, 'what if' story that I thought would be a fun way to do the Derek Stiles ship. Read it before you roll your eyes. If you don't like it, don't read it, if you want to insult me, use a PM. BTW, I need 10 (nice) reviews before each chapter goes up! WHA HA HA! j/k, kind of.

Stiles looked at Lydia's fallen form, blood marring her dress, and the figure of Peter Hale standing over her. The rush of emotion through his ADHD mind carried him on a roller coaster that made it nearly impossible to think. As always, during the few times when he reached this stage of frenetic feeling, his palms began to itch, and he had to resist the urge to rub his hands together.

_No. Jesus, who knows what would happen this time._

It was hard to think what with all of the bright floodlights around, and the menacing voice of the Alpha filling the small space between them.

"Do…you wish…to save her?" he asked again.

"Do I wish to save her? Are you mental? I just ask her out and then she tells me she still wants Jackson, and I chase her out here and I I'm thinking I either have to forget about her or demand she make a choice or just yell and scream until I black out and you are asking me if I WANT TO SAVE HER?" About halfway through this speech, Stiles hands came together, and he felt the familiar static shock feeling as he rubbed his palms.

Kids used to ask him jokingly if it was because he was growing hair on them, a little too much fun time spent with the old Soap on a Rope. If only they knew.

The Alpha was just beginning to lose the startled confusion look that most people had when they listened to Stiles and was beginning to dial it back to 'menacing' when a sudden sharp metallic crack split the night, and one of the huge floodlight poles began to swing forward in a lethal trajectory that would bring the sizzling 800 degree lightbulb array right down on top of Peter Hale.

Stiles, half expecting something like this, quickly pulled Lydia backwards, while Peter looked up, his mouth an O of horror, wolflike reflexes forgotten as he was quickly crushed underneath the heavy fixture, blood and an explosion of shattered lightbulb glass flying in all directions. If you had to go out in style, this certainly fit the bill.

"Lydia, are you all right?" he asked feverishly.

She came to, slowly, and Stiles laughed with relief to see that the blood came from a single scratch, a side effect of Peter knocking her unconscious.

"What the hell happened? Who WAS that guy?" she buried her face in his shoulder, crying.

"Don't worry, I took care of him for you."

A lesser man would certainly take advantage of this vulnerable moment to make one last effort to win the girl of his dreams.

Stiles was not going to be that guy. She wanted Jackson, and even though that was a trainwreck waiting to happen, Stiles had to let her follow her heart.

He took a deep breath, folded all of his feelings for her into a little airtight box in his subconscious, slammed shut the lid and waited for it to suffocate. After maybe ten minutes of rocking her, he felt the feelings die, their ghost waving sadly to him as they floated to off to the Hopeless Love Graveyard.

Perversely, that was when she chose to lift up her face and kiss him full on the lips. He pulled back (from what a minute before would have made him deliriously happy for life), feeling nothing but cold.

"Lets go get you inside." His voice was paternal, and utterly devoid of desire. He might have been talking to a 7 year old girl who had just skinned her knee. Someone else's little girl.

Bleakly thinking about the Alpha, he wondered what Derek Hale was doing right at this moment.

Meanwhile…

Kate stuck a perfectly polished nail in her mouth, wondering how much voltage to give her new pet before she called it a night. This was really just too much fun.

Derek lifted his face up to her, the Beta-phase still evident on his features. What a bizarre species. Sure, you get a lot of power as a Beta, but the boost that the Alphas get was just so off the charts unfair. Once they left to track down and kill Peter Hale, she would have to remember to finish Derek off once and for all lest he inherit the position and all of its gifts. No way could you get away with this with an Alpha, Fort Knox might not even be safe. Sighing, Kate made her selection, turned and flipped the switch, waiting for the too familiar scream of agony that made her feel so warm and tingly inside.

There was no scream.

She looked up just in time for the monster to descend on her.

A once more human (and fully healed) Derek looked down at Kate's unconscious body, and kicked it once, savagely, for good measure. To think, she and Derek had…

He shook himself in disgust, and pondered his new situation. He felt the power enter him like a tidal wave, but held in from the full Alpha-Phase until Kate turned away. The shift, the chains snapping like cotton candy, the defeat of his tormentor…a mere second or two. The Alpha was damn near all-powerful. But the Alpha was dead. He would find out how later. He, Derek Hale, was the new pack leader of a dead pack…save for Scott of course. Derek snorted. Easiest way to win the coming battle with the Argents was to force Scott to join their side. Stiles too, for good measure. Thinking about Stiles gave him pause, and he found himself feeling the sudden urgent need to track the boy down, make sure he was safe.

"What the hell?" he said aloud.

Stiles filled his mind, Derek could almost sense his direction and distance.

This could only mean one thing. Stiles had killed the Alpha. This meant no cure for Scott, ever, and that Stiles would hold endless fascination for the wolf in Derek since it now viewed him as a superior being. He had heard of this happening rarely, and always in antiquity. Humans these days were like sheep, and none had killed an Alpha for centuries. The afflicted werewolf suffered a lifelong connection to the human who had facilitated his ascendance by destroying the previous leader.

"STILES?" Oh, dear Moon above, of all the people to have in your head, and with all the people he seemed to have in HIS head…

Well, first things first.

In half an hour, the Argents entire security team were incapacitated, and Derek (now in need of a shower and change of clothes) was driving to the school, wiping himself furiously with wet wipes, and buttoning his coat over his shredded and bloody shirt.

Scott, Stiles and Jackson were huddled together, Allison and Lydia with the Argent parents about thirty feet away, both looking terrified. And about a million cops. Mr. Argent gave Derek a worried look, probably realizing that Kate might be hurt..or dead. Wanting him to wonder, Derek gave him an evil wolfish grin and waved. Then he walked over to the boys.

"What the hell happened?" he asked.

Scott said "Well, Mr. Argent outed me to his daughter right when she was about to…"

Stiles looked witheringly at him.

"Peter Hale is dead. I – a spotlight fell on him. Crushed him." Stiles described the events, remarkably focused and to the point.

"That can't be true. Stiles…did you do it?"

Stiles looked guilty, terrified and embarrassed all at the same time.

"NO! It was…an accident! I didn't do anything!" he shouted.

Lie, and lie.

"Stiles, there is something you aren't telling me." And vice versa. The wolf in Derek was inwardly thrilled at being near Stiles. Wanted to be near . Wanted to…GEEZ!

Derek shook his head to clear it, then gave Stiles his patented glare.

Looking at the other two boys, Stiles grabbed Derek and yanked him away from the others.

"And no listening in, Scott!" called Stiles, forgetting the crowd. Derek broke from his grip, nearly sending him flying, then had to fight an urge to help Stiles straighten his clothing.

"Stiles, let's just say that something in me…is convinced you had a direct hand in killing my uncle. You tell me a light pole fell on him. Did you push it on him? Rig it to fall?" Derek asked desperately. The wolf could not be fooled. There were laws governing their kind that were thousands of years old.

"Derek…I was scared when it went down. Terrified. Out of my wits, off my gourd…and whenever I get like that, well, sometimes things happen. It's like I'm a Jinx or something."

Derek stared at him.

"A Jinx. As in…bad luck. You killed my uncle…with bad luck."

"Not bad luck. SUPER bad luck! Like Final Destination bad luck! Like The Omen bad luck! You know, when I was a kid, and my father tried to take me to the dentist, the car broke down _four times!_ I'm scared of dentists. In 5th grade, one of the school bullies trapped me in a dumpster. I _hate_ closed in spaces! While this kid was sitting on top of the dumpster, a flower pot fell off someone's windowsill and almost put him into a coma! When I get nervous, and rub my hands together…"

"Wait. Bad things happen when you rub your hands together? Can you show me?" This was unreal, and yet Derek had to admit, Stiles was telling the absolute truth. It was real, or he believed it was real.

"No. It only works when they itch. That's when I'm really freaking out. And I can't control what happens, it just happens. I hate it, and wish I didn't have it, and I am going to get someone killed…oh wait, I already did…Derek HOLY SHIT I KILLED SOMEONE!" And Stiles was literally running around in circles, looking around wildly as if his father and a dozen armed officers were about to appear and take him in.

"I'm going to jail, I'm going to hell…"

Derek couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Stiles and hugged him close and tight, and tried not to cringe as the wolf roared its approval from within. The wolf worshipped Stiles, and if Stiles was upset, then God help the person responsible. How long before Derek's human feelings began to fall in line with the wolf's?

Stiles hugged him back, and Derek caught himself stroking the short brown hair, and muttering "There there now."

Then he screamed and hurled Stiles away from him. Bewildered and traumatized, Stiles could only stare at Derek, the hurt so visibly stamped on his face that Derek had an urge to chomp his own forearm.

"Stiles, I'm sorry, I –"

Stiles was doing it, nervously rubbing his hands together. Derek's wolf senses picked it up, a sudden gathering in the air, an invisible force aroused and pulsating in the space between them. Stiles turned and ran, and Derek tried to follow only to trip (TRIP? I NEVER TRIP!) and fall flat on his face. Rolling over with a mouth full of dirt and snow, he had just time to let out a surprised yelp when an enormous mound of snow from the overhead branches suddenly buried him in its freezing whiteness.

Derek walked back over to the crowd. But for the police, everyone else seemed to have gone. Stiles was nowhere in sight. Derek found his car, and drove home. He would figure out what to do with Stiles and the Argents tomorrow.

The next morning, the wolf decided that Stiles was the more urgent of the two matters, and being an Alpha wolf, its urges were that much more powerful.

Derek went to a local electronics store and bought a "55 inch flat screen television, had it gift wrapped, loaded it into his car, and drove it to Stiles house.

A knock brought Sheriff Stilinski to the door, looking down at a uncomfortable Derek holding the large gift.

"Um, Stiles home?" he asked politely.

"Yeah, he's in the living room. What's that for?" The Sheriff looked suspicious, but that was probably his normal expression.

"Oh, um, you know, he had a bad night, thought this might cheer him up."

"So you bought him a flatscreen? I can't think what else could be that size."

"Do you think he will like it?" was all Derek could think to ask.

The Sheriff ignored the question, and simply shouted "Stiles! Company!" before heading out.

"And Derek?" The Sheriff turned around once more.

"Yes Sir?"

"That will go in the living room. Stiles room will never fit it." He walked off.

Derek carried the box inside and set it before a Stiles who looked nearly catatonic.

"I took so much medication." He said randomly. He looked up at Derek.

"You…are mean."

Derek tore a strip of the paper, and Stiles nearly did a backflip off the couch.

"Wow! Is that a 55" 1080p 150HZ LCD flatscreen with 4 HDMI ports and a built in Blu-Ray player?" he asked. Derek had no idea what any of that meant, had just said "Give me a top of the line tv" to the sales guy.

Soon, the tv was set up and they were watching shows with the ability to count the pores of the skin of each actor. Derek was amazed at how quickly Stiles had made sense of all the wires and cables…clearly the boy was an entertainment system wunderkind.

They sat very close on the couch, Stiles head leaning on Derek's chest, with one of the werewolf's arms curled around the boy's shoulders.

"Stiles, I wanted to apologize for last night. Something is happening to me, and I don't know how to handle it."

Stiles looked at him.

"What's happening? Oh my God! You're an Alpha now! Does this mean you want to eat me after watching me from the woods and making your eyes glow red and chasing me through the school and sending weird text messages from other people's phones and sitting in a hospital pretending you are sick-"

"Stiles!" The boy shut up, looking sheepish.

"Yes, I'm an Alpha. But because of how things went down last night, well…I don't know how to say this. I have a connection to you now. A bond. I can feel you, feel your emotions. And last night, I felt your power. I have never felt anything like it. Whatever it is, its as real as me, and maybe just as dangerous. Does your dad know about it?"

Stiles considered.

"I had an uncle they called 'Bad luck Chuck', and my Dad always said I took after him…but he doesn't really know about it. So we have a bond? Can I tell Scott we have bondage? Ooh, that didn't sound right…"

Derek looked down at the boy, just 2 years his junior, and yet so much more innocent and naïve. The nonsensical babble for the first time was having a soothing rather than annoying affect on him. It suddenly occurred to him that Stiles was already as close to him as if they had known each other for years, Derek displaying an easy intimacy in terms of touch and personal space they he had rarely allowed even his female partners. And Stiles did not seem to mind, was falling right in step along with him, almost as if the boy felt the bond too. What if they grew even closer the more time passed? Would Stiles want that? Did Derek? What if they fell in love? What if they _HAD SEX?_

Derek slapped himself. This was ridiculous. Now he was starting to think like Stiles, endless questions and possibilities running through his mind without rest.

"Derek? You ok? We can change the channel." Stiles face turned toward Derek, no more than an inch apart, and they breathed in each others breath, they looked into each other's eyes, and neither missed the dilation of pupil that occurs when you look at someone with desire in your heart.

"Oh, Derek. Your eyes…they…they're beautiful."

Derek could only mirror the thought when looking into the deep brown pools of this amazing young man sitting next to him. The tension grew between them like a current, building in the air like some inexorable force. Stiles pulled away; Derek thought for a horrible second Stiles was offended in some way, but he realized it was only so Stiles could take in all of him, looking at him in an entirely new way. For Stiles, having so recently killed his feelings for Lydia, to have this unexpected situation occur was beyond belief. The desire smell was coming off them in waves, Derek wondered if even Stiles could sense it. And that energy, just built and built…

Stiles absently rubbed one palm against the other.

The power in the house went out.

The two looked at each other in sudden dawning horror of what this meant. If Stiles caused accidents when he was emotional, and he got emotional when he was with Derek…the two of them could be in more danger than they had ever faced before. That's life for you…

Stiles straddled Derek, and brought his face in close for another examination, this time of lips and teeth rather than eyes. They both licked them as one, and then the first kiss, as deep and passionate as the most torrid romance novel could hope to capture in cheap prose. With no thought, they left off the actual kissing and just sealed their mouths together, sharing the same breath back and forth until Stiles began to get dizzy. They broke apart, Stiles hyperventilating and grinning like a kid in a candy store.

"I've always wanted to try that. Derek…do you find me attractive?" He had asked this question annoyingly a thousand times before, but his voice was different now, and his eyes glimmered with the sheen of tears. A snide answer now could crush him.

"Hopelessly attractive. Completely attractive. Devastatingly attractive." He said, now beginning to breathe rapidly himself.

"I never thought I'd find a fairy tale prince like girls dream about. Except of course, that this fairy tale is 'Little Red Riding Hood. When do I start making comments about the size of your body parts?"

"Sooner than you might think, brat." Said Derek grabbing him back onto the couch.

A/N – Beg for the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – Thanks for the incredibly kind comments! I mean it when I say I truly live for hearing that people enjoy my work. You guys are all the BEST!

P.S. I've been PMed that I am taking liberties with age, but I'm just trying to keep it legal. Also, though this may be a bit fluffy now, major stuff happens later, and it will get a bit slashy too. Just trying to set the stage…BTW this is a LONG ass chapter, just the finale is missing. I really hope you enjoy.

Derek dropped down from his 2nd set of 100 one handed chin-ups and landed neatly on the floor. It was official; he was totally hooked on Stiles Stilinsky. Now, a week after the events that brought the two together, Derek could not imagine why had found the idea so initially repulsive. The werewolf mind and human mind were like two plants in the same pot, joined at the root. Introduce something to the soil, and eventually both will be affected. It was slower for his human half, but no less inevitable. Thinking of the brown-eyed, skinny, sexy, twerpy, funny, annoying and wonderful teen, a very un-Derek like smile broke across his face. His whole outlook on life had improved. Gone was the brooding (well, not completely, he WAS Derek Hale after all) moody, distant, abrupt, condescending, scary…

Geez. Derek had definitely acquired some of Stiles thought patterns. He could still focus his concentration like a laser when he needed to, but for the first time ever he HAD to try.

He heard Stiles pull up in his Jeep, and the grin became broader, and he felt the swelling of the wolf's awareness of his mate.

Stiles walked in with a bag of groceries from which the smell of fresh steaks was tantalizingly evident. Stiles took in Derek in his half-dressed almost sweaty glory, and the bags were dropped on the floor as the boy flung himself into the older man's arms.

"Whoa, watch it, Disaster Boy. Good thing it never worked out with Lydia, she'd be in a wheelchair if you did that to her. Any regrets on that front by the way? Scott mentioned that she had a change of heart when you saved her."

Stiles looked at him with a 'why are you bringing her up' look.

"I don't want to be anyone's consolation prize. She didn't choose me first when she had the chance. Ergo, it isn't real. She'll get over it."

"Did you just use Latin? That is soooo sexy." Said Derek, swinging the boy around till he got dizzy.

"Eros unum, lupus manet!"

Derek stopped. "Love waits for one wolf? Do you love me Stiles?" Derek's heart was clamoring in his chest. Dimly, Derek was aware of another car pulling up outside the house.

Stiles slapped him gently across the face. "OK, ADHD werewolf. Focus now. Yes, I am telling you I love you."

"I love you too. And those are words I never thought I would say." Car doors slamming. Footsteps. Stiles heard it now too.

Stiles grabbed the bags and went into the kitchen, returning empty handed just in time to see Kate Argent and her creepy brother Chris standing there with his usual grin. Kate looked almost healed, though she still held her side tenderly where her ribs had been fractured.

"Derek. Good to see YOU are well." She said, smirking. The Argents took in Stiles presence with only mild interest. Derek picked up the smell of Stiles fear, a stronger scent than the boy had ever given off even when confronted with the old Alpha. What was he afraid of? The Argents were scary, but in no shape to try anything now.

"Yes, well…_I_ heal fast Kate."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why did you leave me alive? The security? Especially now that you got the Alpha kick. I spent hours torturing you, and you didn't kill me."

Derek got in her face, ignoring Chris stiffening and reaching into his coat.

"I…don't…kill people. I am not my uncle." He said.

Her eyes flashed.

"Maybe not, but you are and always will be dangerous. You, and anyone you bring into your little family." Her eyes flicked towards Stiles. "You are too dangerous to be left alive, some people think."

"The same could be said about you guys!" put in Stiles.

Kate whirled on him. "You talking to me, New Kid on the Block? You have guts. I wonder what they look like."

Derek got in between the two of them, Argent pulling his sister backwards gently.

Derek mastered himself, the only thing preventing him from releasing the Alpha and turning them into Sashimi was the idea that it might traumatize Stiles. From the look of the boy, he seemed to want the pleasure himself. Rage had replaced fear as his dominant scent. Derek checked the hands…for now they were at his sides clenched into fists.

"Leave the kid alone. Or do you hurt humans now too? Have you slid so far? Or maybe you have been hunting us so long you are starting to become like us. 'Let he who hunts monsters see to it that he does not become a monster/For when you look long into the Abyss/The Abyss looks also into you.' Nietszieche knew what he was talking about. Go look long and hard in a mirror Kate, you just threatened to disembowel a 17 year old human boy…under _my_ protection. The big bad Wolf." The Nietzsieche quote was not exactly right, but it made her flush just the same.

Kate leaned in, her muscles clenched.

"I am NOTHING like you…dog."

Chris Argent stepped in. "Kate, go wait in the car."

She did, eyes never leaving Derek until she was out the door.

"My sister may not, but I appreciate what you did Derek. You left her and my team alive, and that means you aren't a rabid wolf. Tell you what. You and Scott…we are going to lay off. A truce. As long as there are no wolf related deaths in Beacon Hills. Anyone gets mauled or eaten, and I find out it was one of you, then both of you die. And anyone who stands in the way. This is a first time Hunter special Derek. What do you say?"

Looking at Stiles again, Derek said "I never hurt anyone here and I never will. That wouldn't change with or without your deal. But the same goes for you. Hands off me and the boys. And get Kate a hobby, no way she will stick to this agreement. I see her mauling someone herself just to get you after me again."

Argent just grinned again, and left the house. Stiles looked after them.

"If I didn't want them to leave so badly, I'd give them four flat tires right now." Stiles was consciously keeping his hands apart, still in fists.

"I really thought you were going to do something. I never felt you so wired." Said Derek, pulling him into the kitchen.

"I don't want to tip that particular hand just yet, I'll keep that for a surprise. No use them planning around it if push comes to shove. 'There is no knowledge that is not power.'" Stiles said.

"You read Nietszieche too?" asked Derek as they began setting up to cook their evening meal.

"Only as of a few days ago. Just felt the urge." He said.

Derek looked at him.

"Stiles, you do realize we are becoming more similar to each other as this goes on. Now you aren't wolfing out yet, and I'm not causing accidents, but I don't know how far it will progress. You sure you want this? This kind of bond can be broken, I'm sure of it, if you wanted to…"

Stiles gave him such a Derek Glare that the older boy actually stepped backward.

"Whoa, is that how I looked to you kids?" he said.

Stiles mimed putting away the Glare. "Yeah, but on you it's charming. Now, no more talk of leaving me or I'll be forced to kill you and have you stuffed and mounted and adopt a 'Derek' alternate personality to talk to myself with at night before hitting the streets in a rubber wolf mask and a big knife."

"That is the most convoluted and scary threat I have ever heard. The Argents seem like cartoon characters now."

Derek stepped up to the boy and put his arms around him.

"I don't ever want you to leave. But if you ever decided you didn't want-"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Stiles figured out a way to do just that.

The next day, Scott had lunch at school with Stiles, regaling him with stories of Allison and her decision to stay with Scott even though he was a werewolf. When he was done, he grinned goofily and leaned in close to Stiles.

"So…how are you and 'Sterek' coming along?" laughed Scott.

"Good." Said Stiles. He had confided to Scott just two days before, Scott reeling over the fact that he had never suspected Stiles might be 'gay or bi or whatever' as he put it.

"Come on, tell me, you guys do the deed yet?" he asked.

Stiles looked at him. "First off, no. Second, if it was yes, would you really want to hear the details? Third, he wants me to wait until I'm 18, which is next week, thank God. He's only 2 years older! Whatever. The make-out sessions are getting out of control, and he almost always wolfs out during them-" Scott was making retching sounds.

"Oh, screw you. You asked, straight boy."

"How did your Dad take it? Was he horrified?" asked Scott.

"Nah he was cool. Likes that Derek and I are taking it slow, was amazed it was the first time for both of us. Then he gave me 'The Talk'. My uncle is gay, and they were pretty close growing up, so nothing new to him. Is Allison sure her family will keep to this truce thing?"

Scott nodded. "She promised to crossbow bolt them to death if they try anything funny. She swears they are behaving. Her dad is just busy researching werewolves who DO kill people, but Kate…she is having trouble letting it go."

"I will take that bitch down if she goes near Derek." Stiles growled.

"Geez, that _sounded_ like Derek. You two are like, blending or something. Don't try it though, you aren't Superman or even a werewolf. She will put you in traction, even all banged up like she is."

"Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I've been practicing this thing I used to do-"

Allison sat down at the table, and Stiles shut up. He suddenly realized that telling Scott was likely telling Allison, and from there the Argent clan.

"Hey babes." They smooched sickeningly.

"So what have you been practicing?" asked Scott.

"Oh, uh, Tae Kwan Do. Yee hah!" Stiles made judo chop motions in the air, then got up and mimed the 'Crane' kick from the Karate Kid. The other kids in the cafeteria looked at him with bemused expressions.

Scott and Allison were lip locking, and for once Stiles was grateful. He was obviously too busy to pick up on the lie Stiles had just told.

"See you guys later." The slurping sounds increased. "Oh, get a room!" School dragged until three o'clock when Stiles got into his car and raced to Dereks. His father was concerned that they spent so much time together, especially in the middle of the woods, but the alternative was to risk walking in on them while they made out on the couch or in his bedroom at home. As liberal minded as his father was, he would probably have a stroke.

Derek was nowhere in the house when he called, but Stiles noticed that he was out back. Heading out and around the house, Stiles looked bemusedly at the training course Derek had set up. There was a manikin suspended from a rope and holding an ax (the manikin had garish make-up and a fright-wig and was labeled "KATE"), a pitching machine with iron spiked balls instead of baseballs, a huge open mouth mulcher and a loaded crossbow mounted and aiming at the manikin.

"Wow! Scott is in for it. This looks pretty scary, especially the manikin."

Derek smirked. "It isn't for Scott. It's for you. Today you are going to try to control that ability of yours."

Stiles paled. "Uh, Derek, that isn't something I really want to play around with. I was kidding when I said I wanted to give Kate flat tires. I have no idea what would have happened if I-"

"Stiles. I am giving you plenty of time to get this down. Your goal today will be just to direct it where you want it to go. Later we will use this other stuff to see if you can begin to control what happens. Now. Let's say that Kate is threatening you with an axe. Mind you, if she wanted to kill you, you would never see her coming, but I figure she can be our…inspiration today. Now, when you start to do it, I want you to concentrate on something basic. I'm giving you one crossbow to work with for now. I am going to leave it loaded and pointed at her. See if you can try to make it fire." Derek set it up as he spoke, and Stiles did not need any help in calling up his nervousness. What could be more anxiety provoking then having to impress someone you were in love with? No itching from his palms yet though.

Several minutes went by, and nothing happened.

"I think you need more motivation." Derek turned on the pitching machine, and stood against a tree directly across from it. "That machine will start pitching those death-balls at me in 120 seconds, Stiles. It's set to send them at me at about 90 mph. I am not going to move until 'KATE' is defeated. Just concentrate on the crossbow! Fire it at her and I will be free. You can save me."

"Oh, man, no I don't want to do this! Derek, get away from there! You might get hurt!" begged Stiles.

"I will get hurt. And it will be your fault, Stiles. C'mon! Help me! STILES I NEED YOU TO SAVE ME! STILES KATE IS GOING TO KILL ME!" Derek began to scream as if he were in agony. The sound ripped through Stiles, and instantly he felt the weird generator in his head turn itself on, his invisible pet demon arriving in a fury of itching palms as it coalesced in the suddenly heavy atmosphere. Stiles glared ferociously at the crossbow. Derek continued to scream, the fear channeling right through Stiles and outward from his hands, like an electric current. Imagining a fire hose spraying out of control, he bore down with all his will and focused it on the crossbow, thinking "Get her. Get her. Get her."

"Ten seconds Stiles!" screamed Derek.

When he felt it was as 'aimed' as it was ever going to be, Stiles brought his hands together and began to rub them fiercely.

A strong wind suddenly blew through the clearing, and the crossbow broke from its mounting and fell over on it's side, discharging it's lethal bolt directly at the pitching machine. It hit the control panel, which malfunctioned, the machine now aiming wildly and sending out three of the spiked balls in quick succession. The first hit the mulcher, causing the machine to roar into life. The second hit the Kate manikin, causing it to swing wildly in the wind. The ax flew out of its hands, and it fell through the air in time to meet the third spiked ball, sending the axe whickering right back to sever the rope holding the manikin. The third ball, not a second later, bounced off a nearby tree at suicidal speed and caromed off the falling manikin so that the still-fiercely blowing wind sent it directly into the mouth of the mulcher. A spray of sawdust flew from both ends of the machine, followed by flying tufts of wig. Stiles put his hands on either side of his face in terror at the flying lethal missiles, praying neither of them got hurt. The pitching machine sputtered to a stop the moment his hands came apart. Derek was kneeling on the floor in full blown Alpha phase (clothing shredded all around him), the first time Stiles had seen him so transformed. He wanted to run over, but that was still just a bit too scary for him. Slowly, Derek shifted back, but only as far as the Beta state.

"I think…that is enough practice for today." He said.

Stiles fell on his side, crying his eyes out, hands in fists and stretched out on either side of him as far as they could go. Derek picked him up and brought him into the house.

Later, when he had calmed down, the two of them lying on Derek's bed, gripping each other as tight as they could, Derek was the first to speak.

"Not only was that incredibly stupid of me to put you through, but it could have gotten us hurt or killed. I am so sorry. You know, I lied about the pitching machine. It was just on, it was never set to fire. Motivation. Your ability is far more complex than I thought. It functions as if it were alive and aware, a separate entity. And it has it's own way of doing things. Which means you will never really have full control over it. I'm sorry."

Stiles remained quiet for a few moments.

"Derek, if you love me at all, you will never ask me to do that again. I thought we were dead with arrows, axes, spiky balls flying everywhere…and worst of all, I have to get you a new "KATE" doll."

Derek snickered, and Stiles laughed too, the aftershocks of the day making them give themselves over to survivor's mirth. "If it makes you feel any better…you had the Big Bad Alpha wolf _pissing _himself in terror today. You are officially the scarier one in this relationship, Stiles."

Stiles leaned up to look at him.

"Is this how you feel sometimes, when the wolf comes out, and you back off when you are afraid of hurting me?"

Derek nodded his head yes.

"I understand now, Derek. Why you wanted to try to break the bond if it wasn't right for me, why you want to wait, why you want to make sure you can control yourself. If I ever did anything that hurt you…I would die. I would just lay down on the ground and never get up again. That's why I never want to do this anymore."

"You never have to. C'mon, lets get some rest."

Stiles fell asleep, and Derek nudged him almost awake when it seemed he was having a nightmare. He hoped Stile's power did not function while asleep. Their connection gave him snips of images from Stiles' dreams, Derek full of crossbow bolts, Derek bludgeoned by spiked balls, Derek with an axe in his back, Derek landing in the mulcher. Derek swallowed dryly, realizing that fear, previously a banished and forgotten emotion since he first discovered his heritage had now returned to walk hand in hand with his thoughts. Not fear from others. Not even fear _for_ others (which had been gone from the time his family was killed until he had met Stiles and his friends). It was fear for himself that had returned. A realization of his own mortality. A good wake-up call. He loved Stiles more now than ever before, but today was the last time he ever looked at him like a defenseless child. Stiles was in his own way, more dangerous than Derek or even a full pack of werewolves. He wondered if this 'Jinx' gift had ever been documented. Tomorrow, he would begin to research it, to see if he could help his mate understand and control this deadly gift.

After Derek drove Stiles home for his curfew (Sheriff Stilinski made it quite clear what the consequences for being even a minute late would be), Derek kissed him goodnight, waited the obligatory hour for the Sheriff to go to bed, then slipped into his mate's window to spend the night with him. Tonight, they just didn't want to be alone.

The next day, Derek showed up at the Argents while Stiles was still in school. He knocked on the door, to have it answered by Mrs. Argent. She gave him an icy stare for a minute, seemed to try to get hold of herself, and then gave him a smile as false as her hair coloring.

"Mr. Hale. I assume you are here to see my husband?"

Derek nodded, wishing to exchange as few false pleasantries as possible.

She sent him in to Chris' study, lined from floor to ceiling with hundreds of books, all dealing with some manner of supernatural creature. While the majority of them were on werewolves, Derek knew that did not represent the full scope of the literature.

Chris looked up as Derek came in, looking as if he expected the visit all along.

"Yes, I imagined you would come to see me. Come to confess?" he asked.

Derek looked at him blankly.

"Confess what?"

Chris flipped a newspaper at him. The headlines blared: VAGRANT SAVAGELY SLAIN IN RED FALLS. Red Falls was a little town north of Beacon Hills.

"You're kidding right? I spare Kate and your friends so I can kill a vagrant thirty miles away?" said Derek hotly.

"I didn't think it was you, until you showed up here. If not this, then what?"

"I would like to use your library, to look something up."

Now he had Chris' full interest.

"Family history?" he asked.

Derek shook his head.

"I doubt there is anything those books could tell me anything that I didn't already know. This has nothing to do with werewolves."

"Vampires are supposed to be extinct." Said Chris, grinning again.

"Thanks to your family. No great loss though. My kind hated them."

"I know. Fredo Argent recruited the help of one of yours to defeat a particularly vicious trio of them in Italy."

"And then Fredo killed him."

Chris looked uneasy for the first time.

"I know what you are thinking, but I am not him. If I make an agreement, I stick to it."

"Let's hope Kate feels the same way."

Chris headed for the door.

"Make yourself at home. I assume you can show yourself out." He left.

Derek shook his head. For a minute there, he thought they could become bowling partners.

Unbeknownst to him, a hidden CCTV camera recorded his every move.

Derek tried the modern books first.

Jinx:

A type of curse placed on a person that makes them prey to many minor misfortunes and other forms of bad luck.

A person afflicted with a similar curse, who, while not directly subject to a series of misfortunes, seems to attract them to anyone in his vicinity.

An object/ person that brings bad luck.

Definition 2 fit Stiles perfectly.

Origin of the word:

1. Name of a nymph cursed by the goddess Hera for causing Zeus to fall in love with Io.

2. Name of a species of bird often used in magic or witchcraft ceremonies, noted for its ability to rotate its head 180 degrees.

Derek shivered. Nothing should be able to turn its head that far around. The Greek myth thing bothered him, since werewolves were also the result of their influence. King Lycaon insulted Zeus by offering the god a sacrifice of the human flesh of a child. The result was to be turned into the first werewolf. And as so often with these stories, the curses are passed down to children, and their children. Poof, the werewolf race. Poof, the Jinx race?

He perused a cultural treatise on the history of Luck, and was amazed that every culture seemed to have a deity or spirit who seemed to embody the element of chance, sometimes the most powerful member of the pantheon.

Yet another book tackled the life histories of people who were known to make bizarre things happen, as a result of poltergeists or telekinesis or heightened probability waves. With a gasp, Derek found the name "Stilinkski" in one of the books. Tried for witchcraft, Arianna Stilinski escaped justice in 1742 when an earthquake killed over two dozen people presiding over her execution. A hand drawn diagram in the book showed a pair of hands with distinctive X shaped patterns where Life line and Luck line crossed. "The Crosses of Black Fortune."

A goddamn earthquake?

None of the books mentioned how the curse could be lifted or thwarted, except by judicious use of lucky charms. Smiling at the thought of surrounding himself with boxes of the cereal (a Stiles thought!), he put all of the books back, wiped fingerprints from them to keep Argent from knowing which ones he looked at, and left.

He had about an hour and a half before Stiles got out of school for the day. He drove about twenty miles south of Beacon Hills, stopping at a Fortune Teller's parlor situated in a strip mall between pizza and Chinese food restaurants.

Entering, he found the medium sitting at her table already, shuffling her ancient deck of cards.

"Welcome, Vroloka. It has been a long time."

Madame Tatyana, was one of the few authentic seers Derek had ever heard of. She was of true Magyar Gypsy stock, from a line of Oracles said to be over two thousand years old. Derek had needed her help on two previous occasions. As a rule, he disliked consulting her since it gave him the feeling his fate was pre-written. Whatever she said would happen, did happen. Without fail.

"Sit. Say nothing to Madame Tatyana!" she said in her thick accent.

"You aren't really the talkative type anyway." This in her real speaking voice, pure southern California.

Derek grinned. "Go ahead. Amaze me."

Tatyana laid the first card out. Derek's Significator, the Knight of Pentacles, a Minor Arcana court card. He always got that card first. Wait a minute…he looked closely.

The King of Pentacles.

"Someone has moved up in the world, it seems." Tatyana's eyes were sad. She knew well what this meant.

Second card. The Lovers. The root of his question. This she crossed over the first one.

"You have found love! I am very happy for you!" she said. Her mood was lighter now, usually the cards started off much darker for Derek Hale.

Third card. The Wheel of Fortune, reversed, placed underneath the first two.

"The root of the problem. Bad luck? You have never worried about that before!"

Derek said nothing.

Fourth card, the past, placed to the left of the first two. The Devil.

"Your great enemy is defeated, yet the chained mockery of the Lovers shows that this triumph has altered the course of your love life. This is not necessarily a bad thing, do not worry."

Fifth card. Possible future, placed on top of the first two cards. Strength, reversed.

"A young woman, once a hero, a tamer of wild beasts, her heart has darkened. She is your enemy. But the winds of chance surround her in this position. Her role is not yet clear.

Sixth card. Definite future, placed to the right. Death. Not the first time the Reaper showed himself in Derek's fortunes. Probably not the last. Tatyana did not comment. She didn't have to.

Seventh card. Fears. The Hanged Man. "You worry about losing what you have, since for the first time, you feel you have something you do not wish to lose."

Eighth card. Family and Friends, and only the second card not to come from the Major Arcana, which meant it was a mundane or earthly force. The Ten of Swords. Sword cards invariably represented the Argent clan. This symbolized what they had done to his family. A dead man with ten swords in his back lay on a desolate plain. Derek fought to control himself. Tatyana, for the second time, did not comment.

Ninth card. Hopes. The Fool. A carefree young man about to step off a cliff, not a care in the world. Derek could not help but smile. That was so Stiles. "That is his first appearance in one of your readings!" said Tatyana, laughing aloud. "If ever was a card your total opposite, it would be this. Has the Fool shared some of his carefree spirit with the King of Gloom?" Still chuckling, she flipped over the last card, and drew in a sharp gasp. She looked at Derek with frightened eyes.

"No…"

The tenth and final card. The ultimate outcome. The Lightning Struck Tower.

"This card has never appeared for me in a reading before. It represents the height of misfortune, the curse of the gods themselves." She did not place the card…it literally flew from her grasp and crossed itself neatly over the card for The Fool. She gave a short scream.

Derek felt vertigo, as if the room had started spinning.

"Tatyana…is something bad going to happen to him? That card represents total destruction."

Tatyana still gazed in horror at the card.

"No. Destruction does not come to him, except at his beck and call. He has something black inside him. Black enough to kill the Devil! He…_is…_Destruction."

Derek shuddered again. It _did_ kill the Devil; his Uncle Peter.

"Is there something I can do? Should I leave him? Should I stay?" Derek dreaded the answer to this, but he had to know.

"Destruction follows your separation from him, whether through abandonment, or…" she tapped the Death card. "Derek…I know what he is. His kind are very rare, and even rarer is the power this one can summon. One of his kind caused the sinking of Atlantis, another the fire at the Library of Alexandria. Throughout history, wherever massive devastation has fallen, one of them was always there."

"Help me Tatyana! I don't know what to do." His eyes searched hers desperately. She had to know something.

"Wait." She rushed to the back room, and came back with a book that looked to be several hundred years old. Unlocking it with a key from around her neck, she flipped to somewhere in the middle and found the information she was looking for."

"Curses…there is no cure for Jinx, and there is no cure for werewolf. And yet…yes! Here it is! In rare cases can one who is cursed be released by…" She looked up at him. "Cursing him again. Derek, you are Alpha now, are you not? Bite him. Let the wolf drive out this demon."

Derek looked at her.

"Has this ever been tried before? What if he becomes a werewolf AND a Jinx? Being a werewolf makes everything about you stronger. What if it makes him even more powerful?"

Tatyana shrugged.

"He is powerful enough to send California into the ocean already. The choice is yours. As for me, I am moving to New York. Today! You need me, you contact me on 900 line. Look for my commercial."

"Thank you." Derek tossed some money at the table and left Tatyana, still staring at the ominous card.

Stiles was waiting for Derek for almost fifteen minutes before he spotted the Camaro. Suppressing a sigh of relief, he jogged over to the car, opened it and popped in. His happy grin faltered and disappeared at the look on Derek's face.

"What is it?" His heart was thudding rapidly. It was obvious that something very wrong had happened."

Derek stared for a second, and made a decision.

"Nothing. I just thought you would be mad I was late."

A pause.

"Stiles…have you ever thought of becoming like me?"

Stiles was speechless. He had never expected to have this conversation.

"You mean like Scott? A Beta? Um, no. An ADHD werewolf? Is that a good idea? And a Jinx besides?

"Look Stiles, although I thought it was something we might talk about…WAY down the line, I have it on good authority that by making you like me, it _might_ get rid of this Jinx thing. Think about it, the choice is yours."

"You have been busy today. I don't know Derek. I am not sure I'm done with being human yet."

Derek looked down.

"I mean, no offense! I think werewolves are really sexy and all that, I just hope I wouldn't be a bad one, or worse, a goofy one. I might give us a bad name! We might end up as a cartoon or something. Can you imagine, a cartoon about teenage werewolves?"

"Stiles. I saw a fortune teller today. She says a big catastrophe is coming. Very big. Statewide big. A Jinx catastrophe. And it may come after…something happens to me. If you stay as you are…you may hurt a lot of innocent people."

Stiles deflated, all the hyper energy draining out of him.

"I will never let that happen. I'll kill myself first."

Derek shifted into Beta state so fast that Stiles let out a shriek of fright and backed against the car window.

"NO!" He struggled not to go into full Alpha phase. He would wreck the car, not to mention Stiles. When he was under control he trusted himself enough to speak without growling. "Stiles, promise me you will never say that in my presence again. That is NEVER the solution to anything. HAVE YOU GOT IT?"

Stiles jumped at this last roared sentence, and smacked his head into the window glass.

"All right! Well, you are gonna have to bite me then. Geez. But…just wait until I am 18. It's a few more days. At least Scott can show me the ropes…as soon as you show him the ropes…well, why don't you just show me the ropes then…or maybe both of you can show me the ropes…"

"Stiles!" Derek was fully human again. Lets go to my home. I'll tell you everything I learned today, and then we will not discuss it again until you are 18. Then I want to hear your choice. Whatever it is…I will stick by you."

"Derek…something else. I'm losing my virginity on Monday too. Got it? I want manhood, werewolfhood, non-Jinx-hood, and…non-virginhood all on the same day."

"Ok. Come on, Red Riding _Hood._"

By the time they got to the house, Stiles was busy examining his hands, looking for the Crosses. "Yep, there they are. Maybe I can have them burned off with acid…Derek, do you have any…Derek?"

Derek got out of the car and came around to Stiles side. Opening it, He reached one hand in and helped Stiles out of the car.

"If saving the world means keeping you happy…well, Stiles Stilinkski, you can look forward to being treated like a king for the rest of this weekend."

Stiles had a hard time convincing his dad to let him stay over the whole weekend, but he finally relented. "Just think, when I see you Monday, you'll be a man!" his father said.

"Hm, in more ways than one, and maybe a bit more than that dad…"

"What?"

"Nothing. See you Monday!" he hung up.

And so began their weekend.

Derek made Stiles each of his favorite dishes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and each meal was taken with Stiles sitting on Derek's lap with Derek slowly feeding him one forkful at a time. Derek looked at him like a work of art in progress, and Stiles himself never felt so special to someone in his entire life. Derek carried him from room to room, massaged (nearly) every part of his body without cease. Derek wouldn't agree to "help him" bathe, but did help him with all grooming details, shaving, clipping nails. Stiles began to imagine he was a prince, as his every wish was obeyed the moment he uttered it. On Sunday evening, Derek looked at him as they settled in for sleep and said, as sweetly as he could, "Oh my God, that is SO never happening again. I can tell already you are the biggest spoiled brat in the world."

Stiles laughed. "Actually, there were a few creepy moments. I CAN go to the bathroom myself, you know."

"Good to hear. I expect the same royal treatment on my birthday."

"You got it mister."

"Stiles?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I love you."

"Love you more."

"Tomorrow, everything changes." Derek had no idea how right he was.

Derek Hale opened his eyes and saw his mate lying nearby, the clean flesh of his back exposed due to his habit of kicking off his own blanket. Derek gently ran his fingers down that back, and then watched in horror as Stiles turned his head all the way around, a full 180 degrees with the dry click of snapping vertebrae marking the rotation like a grisly clockwork device. The face that turned towards him was wolfish, and demonic at the same time. The eyes were full black, with a gleaming white cross in the center of each one.

"Who is Red Riding Hood now?" asked his lover. Then the mouth opened wide as a forked snake-like tongue lashed out. The thing lunged for him, and Derek lurched suddenly awake, a full throated scream in his throat. Stiles was gone. Derek looked wildly all around, amazed he had not shifted in his fright. Then he looked up. He shrieked again.

Stiles was clinging to the ceiling like a spider, but with the head still turned completely around. The mouth laughed again, and it dropped, and Derek screamed again, and fell out of bed…

…really waking up this time. Stiles was looking at him in abject terror, sitting on the floor, trying to hide behind a blanket.

"D-d-derek, what is wrong?" he whimpered.

Derek felt the Beta features on his face and groaned.

"That, my boy, was the grandmother of all bad dreams. C'mon, get back into bed."

Derek tensed for a moment, waiting to see if it was another trick, a backward headed Spider-Stiles about to skitter across the floor and leap nimbly into the bed. But it was just him. Derek calmed himself with effort, but it soon became obvious that neither was going to fall asleep.

Stiles said in a very small voice.

"You know, Derek, technically speaking, it is my birthday right now."

Derek looked at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah, I guess it is. So which do you want first, birthday boy. Sex, or bite?"

"Um…lets save the bite to the end. The very end, if you know what I mean.

"I get you. Um, how can I be sure that your…thing…will behave until its over?"

"My thing? There is nothing wrong with my thing, I'm quite proud of it in fact, and it never misbehaves, although sometimes I talk naughty to it…ohhhhh you mean that thing!"

Derek covered his face with his hands.

"Well, I thought of that too." Stiles pulled out two pairs of fur-lined handcuffs from his pants pocket, rattling them at Derek.

"No touching hands, no Jinx, until the wolf kicks it out of me. Don't worry, they are fake, I can get out of them when I want to. But I promise not to. Until after."

Derek stared in admiring worship of the… _man_ he had chosen to spend his life with.

"You really think of everything, don't you."

"Yeah, usually all at the same time."

"I think a prince is about to become a prisoner."

"Well, I have been naughty."

"You will get naughtier. If you ever expect to get free."

"There's a gag in my other pocket."

"I say again, you DO think of everything!"

And as they began…the first frenetic flashes of lightning began to light up the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

A handcuffed (Derek didn't want to use the gag) Stiles looked as his boyfriend did a slow strip tease in front of him. First the wife-beater, then the jeans…and of course, that's all there was. A gag would have been redundant, because Stiles was speechless.

Well, not quite.

"Oh, uh, oh my, uh-"

Stiles boxers were whipped away, and Derek gave him that "You're Lunch" look that caused such wonderful thrills to run up and down his spine. Derek shifted his features to the Beta state, and slowly crawled up Stiles body, openly licking his lips, and smiling with his fang filled mouth. That first kiss seemed make the top of Stiles head explode, the sensation nearly too much for his overactive nervous system to handle. Body against body, the two slid together, each nerve ending in Stiles' skin singing it's own sweet song, together a symphony that wrenched his heart. Licking gently, Derek moved his wolfish head downward, nipping occasionally here and there without breaking the skin. Struggling not to explode right then, he fought to remember the technical names of each part Derek paid attention to… left pectoral…right pectoral (Ouch!), sternum, solar plexus…navel…

He closed his eyes.

"Oh, dear God…" Derek took him on a cruise of the sea of pleasure, the waves rocking him back and forth with perfect rhythm, the cycles getting closer together, building up to a crescendo…

Derek stopped, lifted his face up, grinned again. Stiles legs were slammed apart, by clawed hands, and before Stiles knew what was happening, Derek was standing over him in the bed…right in his face so to speak.

"You know what to do. And for your own sake…do it well."

Stiles complied, and then it was his turn to take Derek along on the hidden sea, the only difference this time that instead of moans, there were growls, instead of sighs, there was gnashing of teeth. The clawed hand reached into his hair, and pulled him off just when he thought Derek could stand it no more. Stiles glared at him, now growling himself, gaining more of his lovers traits as their intimacy increased.

Derek laughed, and moved back down to his previous position, moving Stile's legs up onto his broad, broad shoulders.

"Hope you like it rough, boy." Came the growl speech that was all Derek was capable of now.

Stiles could only nod dumbly, insane with desire…'Just do it, just do it, just do it' ran his thoughts.

Derek complied, sending his length on a slow but inexorable journey deep inside his lover, delivering pain and pleasure in exquisitely equal and ever increasing amounts. They were one then, the final barriers breaking down, the process begun when the Alpha was destroyed now reaching its climax, each lost in each other's thoughts as if their minds were adjoining hotel suites they each had wandered into by accident. Derek spied Stiles' childhood, being nursed by his mother, disciplined by his father, bullied by kids at school, images of Scott, Lydia, Jackson (Jackson? – thought Derek.) ( Nevermind that! – thought Stiles). Stiles too saw into places in Derek's soul he never imagined existed. Derek's passion for music, his talent for the guitar, how he gave it up when his family was killed…Laura liked to listen to him play…his family members, including his mad uncle before he turned rabid, laughing and playing with Derek out in the sun. Derek's first change, surrounded by his family, encouraging him, their faces changing as well, he delighted and terrified and proud all at the same time. Then the Argents, all cruel smiles, especially Kate, she had stalked Derek, captured him, seduced him…(! – You didn't!) (…I did), and then her betrayal, her cruelty, her madness.

This was it now, the final wave, a tsunami that threatened to destroy them even as it recreated them. They descended, both of them howling like beasts, screaming into the stormy night. Derek's face changed, his body twisted. The Alpha looked down at him in all its bestial glory. For the first time, Stiles felt no fear, only in increase of his own desire.

"DO IT! DO IT GODDAMN YOU!" screamed Stiles. The enormous teeth were too far away, Stiles was in pain because he hadn't been bitten, and he screamed wordlessly, just screaming, vowing not to stop until his humanity was gone.

The beast lunged and latched onto his shoulder, the teething ripping the skin like paper, but stopping before they actually crunched bone.

The pain was fucking fantastic.

And Stiles felt it, the wolf was loose in his bloodstream, racing down nerve pathways, looping around and around changing him on a cellular level, down to his DNA. The ghost wolf he had felt growing in him since he began dating Derek, was suddenly fully fleshed out, no longer a ghost but terrifyingly real. It filled him, and perhaps because of their bond, perhaps because of the sex, or perhaps because the newborn Curse had met a darker brother already growing strong within Stiles' soul, the transformation was immediate.

The wound closed as soon as the teeth were removed. Stiles, in the throes of a full Beta shift, glared up at Derek with a bright animal intelligence before lapsing back to his pure human face. Derek shifted back as well, and looked down at him.

"Welcome to the pack, brother." He said softly.

Stiles began to look uncomfortable.

"Derek…somethings happening…"

Thunder and lightning roared out of the sky, causing both of them to jump.

Stiles had the feeling that he was on fire…no, that was wrong. The sensation was of a barrel of dynamite with two separate fuses, both sparks racing inward to be the first to detonate the whole. They reached it together, and the explosion was immense. It roared through him, filled him…then stopped. He was full of the heat, was able to contain it within him. He relaxed, and was just about to tell Derek he was okay when the older werewolf suddenly fell to the floor, a silver tipped spear thrust through his body.

Kate Argent stood there, with that same smug smirk she always wore, shaking her head at the handcuffed young man.

"Well, I guess I turned him off women forever. That is insulting! I guess you really ARE a Jinx! Yes, Derek researched the topic, and I watched him do it. And who could he be referring to but the adorable brown eyed waif I met the last time I was here? Don't worry, I brought a horseshoe. And can I just say…Eww! Handcuffs? Well, it saves me some trouble." She pulled out the horseshoe and dropped it on Derek's body.

Stiles stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"What did you do? The agreement? _WHAT DID YOU DO YOU BITCH?"_

"Language. The deal was that Derek not attack anyone. I distinctly saw him bite you. Doesn't matter that you asked for it. Or rather, begged for it. A bite's a bite. And since we said we would wipe you all out, I get to do you, New Kid on the Block. I really will find out what your guts look like. I already got a glimpse of Derek's!"

She laughed, the hysterical mad laughter of one who, on fulfillment of a lifelong quest suddenly finds herself on the brink of madness when she realizes that her last purpose in life has gone.

A familiar sensation prickled at Stiles' awareness. The itch in his palms that appeared at times of stress, his pet demon wanting to be released into the world but needing this symbolic permission came back…and then ramped up to roaring pain.

He struggled to get his hands free, to slam them together and send this bitch to Hell, but the handcuffs restricted his movement. Unable through the pain to even dream of figuring out the lock mechanism that would free him, he slammed the change through his body, and his suddenly muscled arms and claw-tipped hands yanked the cheap metal apart. The fire in his hands, now augmented by the change, roared even hotter. Kate's eyes widened as she looked at the weird amalgam of Beta and …thing that he had become. He faced away from her, but she could see that the creature's hands were actually GLOWING. His head turned slowly and creakingly around to look at Kate, and she felt the wetness of her voided bladder stream down her leg like lava. The arms dislocated themselves from the shoulders, and the beast brought them around, behind his back…or front, now. Slowly, as she watched, the beast brought them together, and her eyes watered at the brightness of the miniature sun he seemed to be holding. Every hair on Kate's head moved with static electricity as the air came alive with slithering force.

"What the FUCK are you?" she screamed. Then she brought up her Walter P-38, fitted with special silver rounds, and prepared to fire. The gargoyle face split into a hideous grin.

Stiles was somewhere else. He stood on a cliff overlooking a vast and poisonous looking lake. The lake…was the home of the thing inside him, the cesspool at the bottom of his subconscious. He knew that as he knew his own name. It made him laugh to think he could ever control something so freaking…huge. The awareness came to him that to truly wield this force was not to seize it, but to utterly give himself over to it. Fall into it, and let it do what it wanted with him…with the world.

"You know what to do. And for your own sake…do it well." The memory of Derek's voice, spoken as if he were there, was more painful than anything else he had experienced yet.

He jumped into the acid lake, and in the real world, the creature he had become rubbed it's deformed hands together…once…twice…thrice. Then he waited for the inevitable.

The ferocious storm outside suddenly focused itself into a screaming cone of force that ripped the roof off this section of the house like tissue paper.

Kate looked at Stiles with real fright, suddenly believing what she had read today in the books. The witch who caused the earthquake. 12 people dead.

"Not this fucking time." She said, then aimed and pointed. In the split second before she pulled the trigger, a bolt of lightning lanced downward, striking the gun she held in her hands and causing every bullet inside to explode at once, vaporizing her arms and most of her face. The lethal electricity, the equivalent of a hundred electric chairs at maximum power boiled every cell in her body at the same time. She exploded.

The thing raised it's arms to the wind, and rose into the air to float at the center of the cyclone, which moved off to the west on a relatively short trip to an isolated home tucked into Beacon Hills exclusive Heights area. The Argent estate.

Chris Argent was just beginning to suspect that Kate had gone on a solitary vengeance trail in violation of the agreement with Hale. He too had read over what Derek had researched, and neither he nor Kate could figure out what it meant. Then when they saw the name Stilinski in the history book, it all began to make sense.

Now he had a missing sister, a possibly angry (if he still lived) werewolf, and a walking natural disaster to worry about. The weather outside, the worst hurricane ever to reach these parts, and one that no forecaster had predicted, screamed its outrage at terrified people huddles inside.

On the Weather report: "The storm is a freak creation of these two fronts happening to hit each other in just the right way, really just a case of rotten luck-"

Chris clicked it off. The windows rattled alarmingly. And those were not your average Home Depot windows. If they rattled…it meant the HOUSE was rattling." Allison was thankfully staying at Scott's, Chris called Melissa McCall and asked her to let Allison stay over due to the storm. Melissa agreed just before the phone cut out.

It was just he and his wife now, and the security people who were still shook up over their run in with the New Derek Hale.

Chris had called the security people in, and they sat together in the reinforced Safe-Room built to withstand an army of monsters. The ground trembled underfoot, and they all scattered as a sudden crack split the concrete floor, the lead security guy plunging to his death as the floor tilted; he was sitting on a chair with wheels Chris had had greased just that morning. It had been his favorite chair.

Two more members were killed when the live grenades strapped to their belts (in case Derek ever came back to finish the job) lost their pins in the chaos. Only two remained, plus the terrified Argents. The door blew open, and the thing that had once been Stiles Stilinski, a boy who had cried for three days when his puppy got run over (he was 4 at the time) stepped into the room. It waved one finger towards the last two soldiers, and a second later, both were killed by a massive chunk of concrete that fell from the ceiling.

"Uh…if this is about Kate…she acted without my knowledge!" Chris shouted.

The thing cocked its head (further emphasizing the alien angle it was already in) as if questioning what he could possibly mean. That's when Mrs. Argent fired one of Allison's crossbow bolts at it.

A freak gust of tornado strength wind blew through the hole in the house that the thing had entered from, just in time to whip the bolt back on a short and deadly trip through the woman's brain.

Chris knew that he was about to die. Emotionless since he was 16 after a traumatic encounter with a werewolf, he accepted this knowledge with quiet dignity, even with the grotesque loss of his wife just a minute ago. She had understood him. Now she was gone. As he would soon be gone.

The thing seemed to shrug, as if to say "I do believe you, I really do, but you know how it is." Then it waved at a glass covered weapon rack against one wall, knives of every descriptions, including some exotic ones meant purely to torture rather than kill arrayed inside. The case exploded outward, and…well, you get the picture. Chris was left in so many pieces, not one of them measured more than one inch on its longest side. Stiles thing departed and took to the winds again as, through an absolutely freakish set of consecutive unfortunate coincidences taking place in the tectonic plates far below the house, the whole structure was swallowed up. And still Stiles wanted to destroy, everything had to be destroyed as everything had been destroyed for him. An although it would mean the deaths of his friends, his father, and hundreds of people he had never met, he felt it would be for the best, lest they suffer the unlucky quirks of fate he had endured. Death was better than the loss of love, and loss of love was inevitable, so why not give them all the gift of death? And after he had destroyed everything it was in his power to destroy, he would let it fall back in on himself. He would enter darkness that represented the one possibility of a glad heart, in it's promise of final oblivion.

"That is NEVER the solution to anything." Came the fond memory. This time, however, it was.

"I said, That is NEVER the solution to anything!" Stiles-thing looked around. Where had the voice come from? Not in his own head, it seemed. From…outside. From Derek? Could the bond still exist? The wind carried him back to the ruined house at his silent command. Derek Hale was indeed alive, holding the spear in one hand, and the horseshoe in the other.

"Missed the organs. Just lucky, I guess."

The thing was incapable of speech, just stood there regarding him.

Derek shifted into the full Alpha state, towering over the thing. It did not attack, but the great wolf sent a very forceful command deep into Stiles' alien brain.

"This message is for the Beta wolf in there who is under my command. I want you to fight the other presence within you. Destroy it. Bring Stiles back to me."

And that began the battle between the wolf and the demon who had both staked claim over the soul of the young man. Previously allied, delighting in the mutual strength they were able to confer on each other, they now faced off on a mental plane beneath the surface of Stiles tortured flesh.

Derek monitored the fight through his connection to the wolf. It was young and crafty, but Derek fed it with strategies gleaned from years of fighting Hunters and evil werewolves. On this plane, unlike the real world, all of the demon's vast power to control the very nature of chance itself was of little use. Still, it was older than it looked, living in the Stilinski line for generations, all the way back to when it was first planted as a seed in a young girl by a vengeful goddess. It was crafty, and though reduced to the level of tooth and claw, it was able to snatch pieces of the wolf away, gouging it a bit at a time, until its double dozen wounds were beginning to drag it down. But there is no predator like the wolf, especially one fighting for his Alpha, his mate, and his own life. A sudden lunge, and the neck was trapped within the great (figurative) jaws. A savage philosophical snap later, and Stiles was free of the malevolent spirit.

The storm lost its force almost instantly, the individual winds no longer able to cooperate to maintain the whole. The ground ceased its quaking. And slowly, painfully, the body of Stiles tried to repair the catastrophic damage done to it as the demon twisted it into its own image.

Derek shifted back and assisted him, gently turning his head and relocking his arms in place. Blood poured from his mouth, eyes and ears.

Stiles looked at Derek one last time, and then closed his eyes.

Epilogue:

It was close, but the wolf within Stiles was strong. It took him a week to recover from the injuries, but possibly he would never recover from the anguish of the ordeal. No one knew about the Jinx curse, as Stiles had (luckily) avoided telling Scott. Allison mourned the death of her parents and aunt as though it were a freak accident. Though Stiles felt guilt over their deaths, the newborn wolf viewed the matter as pragmatically as possible (they were prey, dangerous, but prey) and wrote the matter off. Over time, the wolf half would convince the human half of this wisdom, and he could put it truly behind him.

Derek and Stiles moved away from all of the bad memories haunting Beacon Hills; though they would not return, Stiles had Derek fly up Scott and Sheriff Stilinski enough so that it didn't seem like they were really apart. Stiles did not want to see anyone else from Beacon Hills.

The love they felt for each other just grew greater and greater every day. The vast forest surrounding their house was the site of endless moonlit hunts, and not a few moonlit trysts.

Eventually, when Stiles was 25, and Derek 27, they hired a surrogate mother to randomly choose one of their sperm samples to bring a baby to term.

Sterek, as they named the baby, was as beautiful and healthy a baby as they could wish for. Stiles noticed the crosses on the boy's palms, when he was a year old, but the idea of telling Derek fell dead in his chest as soon as he thought of it.

One night, Stiles woke from a troubled sleep. He peeled himself from Derek's lean muscled body (now he finally had one of his own to match) and listened for the noise that had sent his heart into his chest.

Click. Click, click click.

He walked over to the crib, dread tensing every muscle, in full Beta phase.

Sterek was awake, and quietly playing with his rattle. Click. Click.

Sighing gratefully, he slipped back into bed, and wrapped his arm around Derek once more.

The End


End file.
